


Wherever He Goes

by novemberhush



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: And I am fine with that, First Kiss, Fluff, Honestly I think I'm incapable of giving these two an unhappy ending, Hurt Mike (but only slightly), Love Confessions, M/M, Worried Harvey (a lot more than slightly), because that's all I seem to write, marvey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: When Harvey witnesses Mike get hurt in a confrontation with a mugger he realises just how close he could have come to losing the kid and decides it's time to tell him exactly how he feels about him. But before he gets to that stage of the operation he has to track down a very important item. Because if music be the food of love, then Harvey wants a seat at the table, and he's not planning to dine and ditch. Not when Mike Ross is on the menu...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! I'm back with more fluff to ease you into the holiday season. I hope you enjoy the story and I thank you for reading it. As always, I own none of the characters, shows, movies, copyrighted products, etc, mentioned herein. But I'd be pretty damn rich if I did. Take it easy. :-)

  
If Harvey had a dollar for every time a victim or witness had uttered the words, “It all happened so fast”, or some variation thereof, during his time working as a prosecutor he’d have, well, he’d have enough dollars to dine out at his favourite expensive restaurant every night for a month. Or so it felt, anyway. It was a cliché, and Harvey hated clichés. Even if they were true. And he couldn’t deny the truth of this one, when he found himself the witness and Mike the victim. Not that Mike had gone down without a fight.

  
_Idiot_ , Harvey thought, for about the hundredth time, as the events of the afternoon played on a loop behind his eyes. Reliving the moment over and over again in his head as his mind constantly spiralled back there. One minute Mike was standing on the sidewalk, looking down at Harvey still sitting in the town car Mike had just got out of. The next he was sprawled out on the pavement over half a block away. Only in Harvey’s anxiety-induced visions, Mike didn’t always get up again. Yeah, Harvey had a feeling he was going to be waking up in a cold sweat thinking about all the worst case scenarios for a while. Damn that kid.

  
_It all happened so fast._

  
Harvey remembered looking up at his former associate and junior partner turned consultant, cocky grin in place, listening to Mike griping about why he had to go back to work while Harvey got to swan off to lunch. The temptation to trot out that old line about explaining it to him, but that would mean he’d have to care about him was too strong to resist.

  
Before he could get the words out, though, Mike was abruptly slammed against the rear panel of the car. The memory of the noise Mike’s body made thumping into the metal, still turned Harvey’s stomach hours (days, weeks) later, just as surely as it had at the time. The kid was bound to have bruises from that impact alone. But he was lucky it wasn’t much worse, given his next (“… supremely dumb, even for you, Mike!”) move.

  
“Son of a …,” was all Harvey heard, still not exactly sure what had happened, but noting Mike sounded breathless and angry. And had taken off running it seemed.

  
Confused, Harvey leaned out of the car, glancing over his shoulder at Mike’s rapidly retreating figure. At Mike’s rapidly retreating figure and that of a guy in a hooded sweatshirt just in front of Mike and running just as rapidly. Running with Mike’s messenger bag in hand. The pieces finally fell into place for Harvey then. The idiot was chasing after a mugger!

  
_A possibly armed mugger_ , Harvey’s brain helpfully supplied, and before he knew it he was out of the car and chasing after both victim and perpetrator. He wasn’t sure which of them he was more angry with at that moment. The thief, for helping himself to something that wasn’t his and putting his hands on Mike in the process, or Mike, for being stupid enough to give chase to a mugger in _New York City_ , for Christ’s sake!

  
Mike wasn’t some out-of-towner; he knew the statistics. Yeah, sure, violent crime had been falling across the city for a few years now, but still, people _died_ in confrontations like this! What in the goddamn hell was he thinking?!

  
“Mike! Mike, just let him go!” Harvey yelled.

  
Nope, that didn’t work. Mike kept right on running. Right up until he caught the guy. Damn that kid.

  
_It all happened so fast._

  
The next few seconds were all a blur to Harvey, like the world was suddenly stuck on fast forward. The guy turned, fists flew, and then everything slowed down again, playing out like a scene from a movie. Harvey developed tunnel vision, focussing solely on Mike as he watched him sink to the ground in slow-motion. He felt, rather than heard, the scream that ripped from his own throat.

  
“ ** _MIKE!!!!!!!_** ”

  
Harvey would never know where he found the oxygen to sprint towards his friend ( _and the_ _rest_ , his brain once again piped up), lying crumpled on the sidewalk, given how the suspiciously heart-shaped lump lodged in his throat seemed to cut off all his air. But find it he did, covering the distance between himself and Mike in a time Usain Bolt wouldn’t have had any complaints with. Tom Ford and Harvey’s tailor, however, would have had a few choice words to say about the way Harvey practically threw himself down on the ground, with no regard whatsoever for the sanctity of his made to measure suit.

  
“Mike! _Mike!_ Are you all right??”

  
Mike was lying on his side, turned away from Harvey, who hovered over him, hands fluttering uselessly in the air, afraid to touch, afraid to turn Mike over, in case he was seriously hurt and moving him might make matters worse.

  
“Talk to me, damn it!” Harvey tried to demand, but it came out as more of a plea, his strangled voice breaking on the final word. Fear gripped him as his heartbeat raced, and not just from the exertion of running. Hot prickles stung his eyes and for one hateful moment he was sure he was going to break down and cry right there in the street. He felt the stirring of panic deep in his soul and wondered absently if he was about to slip into one of the attacks he’d thought he’d got under control these days.

  
And then he heard a groan, so quiet at first he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d imagined it. Then another one, louder, and this time he didn’t know if it had come from himself or from Mike. But then the body next to him began to stir and Harvey felt the knot in his stomach loosen and the vice around his chest begin to let up.

  
“ _Mike_ ,” he breathed, leaning forward, hands no longer afraid to touch, checking for injuries, still terrified of finding a knife wound, but reassured somewhat by the lack of blood on Mike’s clothes.

  
“Harvey?” Mike croaked, voice barely above a whisper.

  
“Yeah, Mike, I’m here. You okay?”

  
His hands had made their way to Mike’s face, carefully cataloguing every inch of skin as he took in the split lip and cut above his eye, before threading gently through fine hair as he checked for head lacerations. Satisfied, they stopped their search, but still didn’t come to rest, one preferring to keep smoothing through the soft hair while the other dropped to cup Mike’s cheek. Harvey was pretty sure he didn’t imagine the way Mike seemed to turn into his touch, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before Mike was speaking again.

  
“I’m not sure. Did you get the number?”

  
“Huh?”

  
“Of the truck that hit me.”

  
Harvey rolled his eyes, but couldn’t suppress the relieved huff of laughter that escaped him.

  
“Yeah, you’re all right. Come on, slacker. Lying down on the job, as usual, I see.”

  
Mike grinned up at him, or tried to, wincing as his split lip made its presence known, and Harvey’s tone became serious again.

  
“Can you get up? It’s okay, there’s no rush. We can stay here as long as you need.”

  
Mike made no attempt to move. He just stared steadily into Harvey’s eyes, a small smile peeking out carefully from behind his wounded lip, and Harvey felt his heart rate, which had been starting to normalise, spike again.

  
“Why, Mister Specter, I do declare,” Mike crooned in his best approximation of a Southern accent, coming off somewhere between Scarlett O'Hara and Blanche DuBois ( _or Blanche_ _Devereaux_ , Harvey thought, with a smirk), “… I do believe you care about me, sir.”

  
Harvey fixed him with a look he knew was giving too much away, aware of the slight mist in his eyes and the gentle smile on his own lips, but unable to do anything about either of them. He hadn’t gone completely soft, though. The smile transformed into his familiar grin and his misty eyes took on a mischievous gleam as he realised Mike had unwittingly handed him the perfect movie quote to come back with.

  
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

  
Mike barked out a quick laugh and looked like he instantly regretted it as he clutched the side of his face Harvey wasn’t holding. Harvey just as instantly went on the alert again, but Mike brushed away his concern with a shake of his head and a muttered, “I’m good.”

  
“Well, I suppose I did walk you right to that one,” he added.

  
“Damn right, you did,” Harvey replied. “Now, do you think you’re ready to give getting up a try?”

  
“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

  
Harvey reluctantly let go of the wounded hero/idiot and climbed to his feet before reaching out both hands to a grateful, if slightly less graceful, Mike to help him up. Slowly they made their way back towards the car, still parked outside their office building.

  
“You’re going to be late for your lunch reservation. Go, I’ll be fine from here,” Mike insisted when they reached the car.

  
“Yeah, not a chance. Get in, Van Damme, we’re going to the hospital.”

  
“Van Damme? I’ve always thought I was more of a Willis.”

  
“You wish,” Harvey snorted. “You’ve got to work your way up to being a Willis, Mike. Besides, Van Damme was the most ridiculous action hero I could think of. Now, get in the car before I start calling you Seagal."

  
“Aye, aye, captain,” Mike said, with a mock salute that had Harvey rolling his eyes again. “Oh, and, just for the record, Jean-Claude could totally kick your ass, old man.”

  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m quaking in my boots. Now get in the car, chucklehead.”

  
The wait at the hospital was long and boring, but Harvey shot down every one of Mike’s suggestions that they forget about him getting checked out and get the hell out of there. When they finally did get to see a doctor they were soon dismissed with an assurance Mike was fine except for a few cuts and bruises and a prescription for some painkillers to ease any lingering aches and pains. Harvey was tempted to pop a couple himself to lift the headache that had settled behind his eyes.

  
The next stop was the local police precinct to report the theft, but neither they nor the harried officer they gave their statements to held out much hope of ever finding the guy. Declaring the day a loss after that, Harvey insisted on dropping Mike off at his apartment to rest. His empty apartment now, since he had broken up with Rachel shortly after he was released from prison, just over eight months ago.

  
“But what about the research for the Millman case?” Mike protested, even as they pulled up outside his building.

  
“Forget about it tonight, Mike. We can get started first thing in the morning,” Harvey responded.

  
“We?” Mike turned to face Harvey across the backseat of the car, eyebrows raised in the universal gesture for surprise.

  
“Yeah, _we_.” Harvey grinned, thinking back to Mike’s little Scarlett O'Hara moment earlier.

“After all, tomorrow is another day, Mike.”

  
“Yeah, yeah, and as God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again. Very funny, Specter.”

"Hey, you’re the one started it, Miss Scarlett.”

  
They fell silent then, the smiles faltering and slipping on both their faces. Their eyes locked on one another and turned serious, the air feeling somehow heavy between them all of a sudden. Full, perhaps, of all the things they had never said to each other, preferring instead to fall back on wisecracks and movie quotes. All the real things they had been tiptoeing around for years, but never given voice to, each afraid of the other’s reaction. The other’s _rejection_.

  
Chasing after a mugger was so much less scary than the thought of losing what they already had by pushing for more. But right now Harvey felt they were on the brink of something. So of course his phone picked precisely that second to ring, startling them both and breaking the moment.

  
He quickly hit ignore (made all the easier by the fact it was Louis who had been calling) and turned back to Mike, but he could tell whatever new, momentous development in their relationship they had been teetering on the edge of, Mike had once again pulled back.

  
Where once he might have felt relief, Harvey now felt nothing but disappointment. He was ready to take the next step. The thought that he could have lost Mike today and how that made him feel had made that patently clear to him. But if Mike wasn’t quite there yet then he knew he couldn’t force the issue. This was not the time. So instead he asked something that had been bugging him all afternoon.

  
“What the hell were you thinking, Mike?”

  
“Huh?” Mike’s head swivelled round to look at him, confusion etched clear on his bruised face.

  
“Today. Going all Rambo on that mugger. He could have had a knife or a gun or you could have cracked your thick skull on the sidewalk when you went down. He could have killed you, Mike! And all because of a stupid bag or some macho bullshit need you had to play the hero! Do you know how many muggings gone wrong I saw during my time as a prosecutor? How many of those could have been avoided if the victim had just let the guy take their wallet or purse or whatever?”

  
“Oh, so it’s the _victims_ that were to blame, is that what you’re saying?” Mike countered, anger shading his face darkly.

  
“No! Of course not! You know that’s not what I meant. Don’t twist my words!”

  
“Your words seemed pretty clear to me, Harvey! Sounds to me you think if that guy today had stabbed me I would have had it coming!”

  
“What?! No! That’s not what I’m saying! Jesus, just the thought of it…” Harvey trailed off, shaking his head. “Seriously, Mike, don’t even go ther …”

"I gotta say,” Mike interrupted, “… I never thought I’d see the day Harvey Specter would back down from a fight.”

  
“ ** _This isn’t about backing down from a fight, you idiot!_** ” Harvey roared. “This is about not having to watch you die, bleeding out on a sidewalk, and all because some scumbag or strung out junkie wanted to make a few quick bucks and stole your stupid, and unlike you, _replaceable_ man purse!”

  
Harvey was breathing hard by the time he finished, hands balled up into fists in his lap, as he fought the image playing in his head of Mike cradled in his arms, bleeding to death while Harvey could do nothing to stop it.

  
He looked up to see the anger drain out of Mike’s face and be replaced by something softer. Something Harvey couldn’t quite put his finger on. Understanding, maybe. Sympathy. Empathy? All of those things, and something more. Something deeper. But Mike still wasn’t ready to share whatever that something was with Harvey. True to form, he fell back on their usual banter, a small grin gracing his features, trying to wheedle a smile out of Harvey in return.

  
“It’s not a man purse. It’s called a satchel. Indiana Jones wears one.”

  
But Harvey wasn’t in the mood for exchanging quotes, especially not from a movie as overrated as ‘The Hangover’ was, in his opinion at least. Mike seemed to sense that, sobering somewhat and wiping the grin off his face.

  
“It wasn’t about the bag, Harvey.”

  
“I swear to God, Mike, if you say it was the principle of the thing, I’ll kill you myself.”  
Mike flashed him a small, sardonic smile.

  
“No, it wasn’t the principle and it wasn’t the bag. Although it was a nice bag, you gotta admit. T. Anthony, in fact. But no, it wasn’t the bag. It was what was inside the bag.”

  
“Inside the bag? Let me guess, it’s where you keep all your things,” Harvey said, earning himself a smile from Mike. (Hey, he never said he _couldn’t_ quote ‘The Hangover’.)

  
“I get a lot of compliments on it,” Mike shrugged, obviously glad Harvey had decided to indulge his move back on to safer ground after all.

  
“Right,” Harvey drawled, still not ready to let Mike completely off the hook just yet. “So, what? Your wallet, your phone, your keys? What?”

  
“No, I had all those things in my coat. They’re all safe.”

  
“What, then?” Harvey enquired, brain scrabbling to come up with what might be so important Mike would risk his life for it. He could only come up with one possible answer.

  
“Were there papers in there? Is that it? Something to do with a case? Something confidential? Because I don’t care how sensitive the paperwork was, it’s not worth losing you over, you hear?”

  
Harvey saw Mike’s head snap up and mouth drop open at his words, eyes widening just a fraction, but enough to be noticeable. He hadn’t meant to phrase it like that. _Losing you_ _over_. He’d meant to say something like it wasn’t worth risking Mike’s safety over. But it was out there now and it was how he really felt so he couldn’t regret it too much.

  
“No. No paperwork. Well, nothing important or confidential, anyway,” Mike said, regaining his composure.

  
“Well, if it wasn’t papers, what was it then?” Harvey pressed. “Come on, are you gonna make me guess here? Despite all appearances to the contrary, I’m not actually all-knowing, Mike!”

  
“It was … something of sentimental value,” Mike murmured, briefly meeting Harvey’s eye, then looking away again as if he was embarrassed.

  
“Sentimental value? And that was worth almost getting yourself killed over?”

  
Now it was Mike’s turn to roll his eyes.

  
“Jeez, I knew you were a drama queen when you gave me that whole, ‘Life is this. I like this,’ spiel,” Mike intoned, the last bit said in what Harvey assumed was his best impersonation of Harvey’s voice and invoking the same hand gestures Harvey had used that night. “But I think you’re taking it a little too far now, even for you.”

  
“Oh, _I’m_ taking it too far?!” Harvey was incandescent with rage now, Mike’s refusal to admit he’d acted rashly … _no, scratch that_ , Harvey thought, his refusal to admit he’d acted _downright stupidly_ only adding fuel to the fire of his righteousness indignation.

  
“I’m not the one who chased a mugger for more than half a block over some dumb trinket I didn’t want him to get his hands on!”

  
“It wasn’t some dumb trinket!” Mike shouted back, his own fury reignited again.

  
“Well, what was it then??” Harvey yelled.

  
“It was the last Christmas present my grandmother ever gave me!”

  
Mike’s voice cracked and he looked away, tears blurring his vision. He swiped them away quickly, hoping Harvey hadn’t noticed, but the soft, deflated, “Oh,” from the man beside him let him know it was a futile wish.

  
“Oh,” Harvey repeated again. “So, what was it then? This present your grandmother gave you?”

  
“Promise you won’t laugh or get mad again?”

  
Harvey scoffed, “No guarantees, kid. Now, out with it. What was so important you didn’t want to lose it to that creep?”

  
“My iPod. I mean, I know there are any number of newer models on the market now, but that one was special. Because…”

  
“Because it was given to you by someone you loved.”

  
“Yeah,” Mike whispered, head bowed. “I’m sorry. I know you’re right. It’s not worth getting hurt over. But I wasn’t thinking of that when I ran after that guy today.”

  
“You weren’t thinking at all!” Harvey retorted.

  
“No, I know. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. I was reacting. I just knew the last thing Grammy ever gave me was in that bag and I couldn’t let it go.”

  
Silence once again filled the space between them, both lost in their own thoughts, until Harvey sighed.

  
“All right, rookie, go on, get out of here. Get some rest and I’ll be by to pick you up in the morning. 7 a.m. sharp, no excuses.”

  
“7 a.m., huh? The last time you were up that early, you were going to bed that late,” Mike wisecracked.

  
“Get out of here, smartass, before I finish what that mugger started,” Harvey growled, but they both knew there was nothing but amusement and affection behind the empty threat.

  
Mike opened the door to exit the vehicle, but stopped short of getting out. Without looking back he said, “Thanks, Harvey. For looking after me today. And every other day, too. I’m sorry I scared you. I don’t know what I would have done if it had been you laid out on the sidewalk like that.”

  
Harvey wanted to come back with something about how he hadn’t been scared or some other such lie, but that lump was back in his throat and all he could get out was a raspy, “Goodnight, Mike.”

  
And that was what had led to him hunched over his laptop at 2 a.m., locked in a mental 'Groundhog Day’ of that afternoon and an eBay bidding war with someone with the screen name 'JohnLock221B’. It cost him the better part of a night’s sleep and more money than he cared to admit to see off the competition and secure the item he sought, but imagining the look on Mike’s face as he unwrapped it made it all worthwhile.

  
Phase One was complete. One quick email to Vanessa (to engage her services in attempting to track down the items Mike had lost) later and he fell into bed and a deep, dreamless sleep. Any nightmares about blood on the ground and the life of the person who was most precious to him slowly ebbing away were thankfully held at bay. Phase Two required outside help and would have to wait until morning. Besides, it would take a few days for his purchase to be delivered and he couldn’t do much else until that happened.

  
Vanessa reported back a couple of days later. The bag had turned up in a pawn shop, but there was no sign of the iPod. Harvey wasn’t surprised. The creep most likely found a buyer for it on the street or exchanged it for a quick fix of whatever his poison was. He got the bag back and returned it to Mike, apologising for not having turned up the iPod as well. Mike just looked at him as if he was crazy.

  
“Harvey, what are you apologising for?! You went way above and beyond here. You actually got your best investigator on the case? You got Vanessa to go out looking for a lost _iPod??_ ”

  
“Well, yeah.”

  
“ _Why??_ ”

  
Harvey considered his answer for a moment, his eyes wandering to the blank space on his wall. Once again he felt the twist of the knife, as he remembered having to let that asshole Stemple walk out of his office with his mother’s painting. One of the few good memories Harvey had of the woman, now as tainted as all the bad ones.

  
“Let’s just say, I know the value of a few items of sentiment.”

  
It seemed a safer answer than blurting out what he really wanted to say. _For you, Mike. For you_. But Harvey was getting tired of playing it safe. Which was probably why the idea for Phase Three formed in his mind.

  
A few more days after Harvey had returned the bag to Mike he called him into his office again. It was late and everyone else had already gone home for the evening. They often found themselves the last two left on their floor these days, Harvey having taken over as Managing Partner after Jessica’s departure and taking the role seriously, and Mike, well, he was Harvey’s guy.

  
The fact he never complained about the late nights and long hours, that he seemed to enjoy their nightly glass of scotch and catch-up session in Harvey’s office and the way he appeared to linger in the backseat of the car next to Harvey even after they’d pulled up at his building all gave Harvey cause to hope Mike returned his feelings. And was maybe about ready to act on them. So it was time to bite the bullet and put the next phase of his operation in motion.

"You wanted to see me?” Mike asked, head peering round Harvey’s door, injuries now all but healed.

  
_I always want to see you, Mike_ , was what Harvey wanted to say.

  
“Yeah, Mike, come on in,” was what he actually said.

  
“Here.”

  
Before he could lose his nerve, he thrust a small, rectangular package, wrapped expertly in silver paper, across his desk towards Mike. Mike, for his part, just stared at the package, dumbfounded.

  
“What’s this? It’s not my birthday and it’s a little early for Christmas.”

  
He lifted the package gingerly, as if he thought it might spontaneously combust at any second, and began turning it over in his hands. Harvey half expected him to lift it to his ear and shake it like a kid on Christmas morning.

  
“What’s in here, Harvey? And what’s the occasion?”

  
Harvey rolled his eyes. Mike never could make anything easy, could he?

  
“Why don’t you stop asking questions, Colombo, and open it and find out. There’s no need to be so suspicious. It’s not ticking and I promise it won’t bite.”

  
Mike gave him an assessing look, like he was trying to work out exactly what Harvey was up to. Harvey held his gaze, trying to give nothing away and hoping his notorious poker face didn’t let him down now. Whatever Mike saw in Harvey’s face, it seemed to reassure him Harvey was on the level, that he wasn’t playing some trick on him. Of course, Mike’s natural curiosity and boundless enthusiasm were always going to win out over suspicion in the end, as Harvey had known they would.

  
He watched as Mike shot him a smile and started tearing into the wrapping paper and for a moment Harvey could see how Mike must really have looked as a kid on Christmas morning. Happy, bright, brimming over with love and light.

  
And then the smile faded and Mike went very still. The thought he’d just made a terrible mistake resounded through Harvey’s mind.

  
“Harvey, you … This … You got me a new iPod?”

  
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” Harvey quipped, but there was no sting to it. Rising from his chair, he stepped around his desk and stopped in front of Mike.

  
“Is it … Is it okay? Did I get the right kind?” He hated the uncertainty he could hear in his own normally implacably confident voice.

  
“What?”

  
Mike looked up from studying the newly unwrapped gift in his hands.

  
“No, yeah, it’s great,” he whispered. “Perfect, actually.”

  
Harvey let out a relieved breath.

  
“Good. That’s good. I mean, I know it’s not as good as getting your old one back, and I could’ve gotten you one of the newer models, but, well, I thought you might appreciate one that reminded you of the one you lost.”

  
Harvey registered his own words and another new, horrible thought occurred to him.

  
“God, I really didn’t think this through. Maybe this is a painful reminder.”

  
Mike shook his head vehemently.

  
“No! No, it’s great! I love it. I do. Thanks, Harvey. Really, thank you.”

  
The look on his face was so earnest Harvey knew he was telling the truth. It struck him again that he had never met anyone more genuine than Mike. He knew how that would sound to an outsider, to someone who only knew the barebones of Mike’s story and about the fraud he had perpetrated, and Harvey had been complicit in, for five years. He was well aware how someone, someone like Anita Gibbs for instance, would scoff and sneer at the idea Mike was nothing but 100% authentic. And, damn, if that didn’t piss him off.

  
But the flip side of that was the feeling Harvey got from knowing that he knew the real Mike. Knew him right down to his bones; knew him maybe better than anyone else did. And that was a good feeling. Warm, and, yeah, maybe just a little proprietorial. More than anything, though, Mike was special and being the person who realised over and above anyone else just _how_ special made Harvey feel, well, it made him feel pretty goddamn special himself. Damn that kid.

  
_It all happened so fast._

  
He had known right from the start Mike was different from anyone he had ever met before. His heart had known it too. (“Move over. I’m emailing the firm I just found our next associate.”)

  
But that was the past. Harvey was more concerned with their future. And it was all wrapped up in the present.

  
“Yeah? Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” he said, dragging himself out of his thoughts and concentrating on the man in front of him. The incredible, extraordinary, beautiful man in front of him. “Go on, take it out of the box.”

  
Mike did as instructed and discovered the iPod was not only fully charged, but also loaded with what seemed like all his favourite music.

  
“Harvey, how did you even…?”

  
“Ah, that was Phase Two of Operation Music Box.”

  
“Operation what now?”

  
“You heard, rookie.”

  
“Okay, just so you know, we’re gonna have a talk about stripping you of all operation naming rights sometime in our future,” Mike smirked, and Harvey tried to pretend his heart hadn’t just performed a backflip at the words ' _our future_ ’ relating to him and Mike coming out of Mike’s mouth. “But first, I gotta ask - Phase Two?”

  
“Phase Two,” Harvey repeated, pulling himself together. “Find out what Mike calls music and load the iPod with said noise.”

  
Mike threw Harvey a good-natured eye roll at the gibe about his taste in music, which Harvey met with his very own trademark smirk.

  
“And you did that how?”

  
“By taking advantage of the fact that you are the only person I know who can say they’re going to stay friends with their ex and not only mean it, but actually pull it off too.”

  
“You went to Rachel.”

  
“I went to Rachel.”

  
“And then what? I assume Phase One was acquiring the actual iPod, so, what? Did you go back to the Apple Store and beg someone to show you how to get all the music into the little, tiny rectangle thing? Or did you bribe Benjamin with a month’s supply of Egg McMuffins to do it for you?”

  
“First of all, there’s so many false assumptions in there, I don’t even know where to begin, hotshot. Oh, wait, I do - I know how to put music on an iPod, Mike! Appreciating the intimate experience offered by vinyl that you just don’t get from digital recordings doesn’t make me a complete dinosaur. Hey, get that smirk off your face now, Ross!”

  
Mike held up his hands in a placating gesture before indicating Harvey should continue with his little speech.

  
“And at no point during the awesomely named operation did I set foot in the Apple Store. They always try to push their latest model on you and I could do without all the forced jollity and relentless sales patter. Plus, I admit, that place creeps me out a little. It’s just so …”

  
“Modern?”

  
Harvey narrowed his eyes at the hint of teasing amusement in Mike’s voice.

  
“Actually I was gonna say 'soulless’, wiseass.”

  
Mike gave a nod that Harvey read as conceding he had a point.

  
“But if you didn’t go to the Apple Store, where’d you get it?”

  
“Even an old geezer like me’s heard of eBay, Mike.”

  
Mike nodded again, looking something akin to … impressed?

  
“What? You didn’t think I had it in me? Didn’t think I’d the technical know-how to get the job done?”

  
“No,” Mike said slowly. “Nothing like that.”

  
“What, then?”

  
“I’m more impressed you went to all that trouble. For me,” he admitted.

  
“Yeah, well, you lost something that meant a lot to you, Mike,” Harvey coughed and looked away, suddenly feeling very exposed.

  
“You’ve lost too much that meant a lot to you,” he added, quietly. “And I know it’s just a small gesture, and that it can’t even begin to start making up for everything that you’ve lost, but I wanted to do something for you, kid. Because you deserve it. Because you’re special.”

  
“Harvey, I’m not spec-”

"Yes, you are, Mike. You’re special. You’re so special. To me.” Harvey swallowed and risked a look at Mike. All his legendary ability to read people had deserted him, right when it mattered the most. So he did the only thing he could think of - he kept talking.

  
“Look, I know it’s not exactly the same as your old one, but…”

  
“What are you talking about? It’s exactly the same,” Mike interjected.

  
“Yeah, no, I mean it’s the same make and model and colour and everything. And maybe it even has the same songs on it. But your old one was a gift from someone you loved. The person you loved most in the world, in fact. The person who always had your back and never let you down.”

  
“Harvey …”

  
“The one person you could always rely on …”

  
“Harvey.”

  
“…who was always on your side…”

  
“ ** _Harvey!_** ” Mike shouted, finally putting an end to Harvey’s babbling.

  
“Yeah, Mike?”

  
“It’s _exactly_ the same,” he said softly, his eyes and smile seemingly competing to see which could shine the brightest and have the most effect on Harvey’s heartbeat. “In every one of those ways you mentioned.”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“In that case, then, maybe you should read the inscription on the back.”

  
“You got it engraved?”

  
“Yep.”

  
Mike turned the small device over in his hand and read the message carved with care on the other side.

  
_For Mike,_

 

_For he shall have music wherever he goes,_

 

_Love, Harvey_

  
Mike looked up, and Harvey found he could once again read that face he loved so much, and what he saw there took his breath away - _hope_.

  
“'Love’, huh?”

  
“Huh?” Harvey heard himself parrot back.

  
“You had it engraved ' _Love_ , Harvey’. Right here.”

  
Harvey watched as Mike ran his thumb across the inscription.

  
“Um, yeah, I guess I did.”

  
“You guess?”

  
Mike was looking at him, _really_ looking at him, eyes wide, intense and dense with feeling. Harvey had never felt more _seen_ in all his life.

  
“I know. I know I did.”

  
Mike started to smiled, but then a thought seemed to strike him.

  
“Wait … How’d you get it engraved? I thought you said you didn’t set foot in the Apple Store.”

  
“I didn’t. I have a guy.”

  
“You have a guy for everything.”

  
“Yeah, but only one of them _is_ my everything.”

  
Harvey heard his own words and his breath caught in his throat. He was so used to the rapid-fire back and forth repartee between him and Mike that it came second nature to him now. It had always been like that between them, right from the start. He never had to think about what to say with Mike. It all just seemed to spring forth of its own accord and now was no different. Except it was. Because this time he had put it all out there. Exactly what Mike was to him. _Everything_. And now he could only wait for Mike to respond. To shoot him down or lift him up, like the right song can make your heart sore or make it _soar_.

  
“Smooth, Specter. Real smooth.”

  
Mike was grinning at him, eyes trusting and happy and looking at Harvey like he was the special one.

  
“You think?” Harvey stammered. “Well, maybe I should give Javier a call and tell him how I feel about him.” (What? He never said he was going to stop messing with Mike.)

  
Mike just rolled his eyes and laughed.

  
“Yeah, you do that. 'Course I’m not sure what _Javier_ did to deserve a jackass like you.”

  
“Me neither, Mike. Me neither,” Harvey said, stepping closer to _his_ guy, the only one who counted. He stopped when he saw a shadow cross Mike’s face. A shadow that looked a hell of a lot like doubt.

  
“What is it?”

  
“Harvey, we … we can’t do this.”

  
“What? Why not?” Harvey questioned. “Don’t … don’t you feel the same way about me?”

  
“Jesus, of course, I do! Of course! It’s just …”

  
“Just what, Mike?”

  
“It’s enough that you brought me back here as a consultant, but do you know what kind of a hit your reputation will take if it comes out we’re together? Like, _together_ , together? And it would come out, Harvey. Because I’m sick of living a lie. Five years as a fake lawyer was more than enough of that. I couldn’t just be your dirty little secret.”

  
“And I would never ask you to be. I love you, Mike. There. I said it. No bluffing. No hedging my bets. No playing my cards close to the vest. Phase Three - tell Mike you love him. Well, this is me implementing Phase Three, Mike. I love you and I’m not ashamed of it. I love you and I don’t care who knows it. In fact, I want everyone to know it. I want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m yours and they better not even _think_ about trying to come between us.”

Harvey’s voice softened but lost none of its conviction as he continued, “Besides, like Rhett said, 'With enough courage, you can do without a reputation.’ And, honey, you give me all the courage in the world.”

  
Mike gave him that assessing look again and Harvey stood there and let him look his fill. He dropped every guard and shield and barrier he had ever put up. He pulled down every wall and let Mike look right into the heart of him, look right into his soul. He knew what Mike would find there. Himself. His name, his image, engraved on Harvey’s soul forever. ‘Property of Mike Ross’, stamped across his heart, now and evermore.

  
“Harvey, are you sure I’m worth it? Are you really sure?”

  
“Rookie, I have never been more sure of anything in my life. Apart from one thing,” Harvey said, quirking a smile.

  
“Oh?” Mike cocked an amused eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, is that, Mr. Butler?”

  
Harvey closed the gap between them, encircled Mike’s waist with one arm and pulled him close in a move worthy of any matinée idol from The Golden Age Of Hollywood. He brought the other hand to Mike’s chin to gently tilt his face upwards.

  
“You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.”

  
Harvey took great satisfaction in the way Mike’s pupils dilated, but one of the things he loved most about the kid was the way he challenged him. And Mike appeared to find no reason to stop doing so now. Instead he picked the next line of the movie right up and ran with it.

  
“Oh, and I suppose you think you’re the proper person.”

  
“I might be, if the right moment ever came,” Harvey fired right back at him.

  
Mike gazed up at him, so beautiful, so attentive, and Harvey felt his heart swell within him, everything in his blood calling out for this man in his arms. At long last, in his arms.

  
“I think this moment feels pretty right, don’t you?” Mike’s voice was hushed, reverent, and full of awe. It was music to Harvey’s ears.

  
“Goddamn right I do,” he purred and then his lips were on Mike’s and nothing else mattered. Nothing else had ever felt so good, so right, so _inevitable_ , before. Harvey knew this was the moment his whole life had been leading up to. Mike seemed to know it too. But there was still one thing Harvey needed clearing up.

  
When they came up for air, both breathless and happy and aching for more, Harvey determined to ask his question.

  
“Mike,” he whispered, kissing his way along the jawline of his one-time associate and now lifetime partner.

  
“Yeah?” Mike panted.

  
“I just have one question…”

  
“Yes, Harvey, I love you, too,” Mike replied, attempting to get even closer to Harvey, which seemed an impossible task given their current proximity.

  
“Good to know, kid, but that wasn’t actually my question.”

  
“Okay, so what was your question?”

  
Harvey drew back just enough to look Mike in the eye, his face the absolute picture of sincerity.

  
“Mike … just what in the goddamn hell is an Egg McMuffin?”

  
And if Harvey heard music in the burst of laughter that seemed to emanate from Mike’s very soul and sent up a prayer of thanks for it to anyone who might be listening, well, frankly, my dear, that was nobody’s damn business but his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks to you for reading and to Sairyn and Writingtoreachyou for acting as betas on this story. Come say hi, if you'd like to, in the comments section here, or on tumblr, where I'm also known as novemberhush. Take care. xxx


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